What was the incident that told me, as a young child, that I was not good enough? I certainly don't know. All I do know is that from a very young age I didn't feel like I belonged with the other children, that I was somehow not like them. That I needed fixing.

Another thing that I have carried with me from an early age, at least from my early teens, probably longer, is an interest in religion and spirituality. And I have always been certain that following a spiritual path would lead to me being a better person. It would do the fixing.

There is no denying that my spiritual practice has given me many insights and untold treasures over the years. It has been a beautiful journey. But it took a very ordinary secular counsellor to help me come to the conclusion that I don't need fixing.

With my recent unresolved health challenges, I am learning that lesson all over again.

The spirits who guide me have told me that the way to healing is consistent awareness of my connection to all that is. Awareness of my essential nature as part of the Earth, the ever-creative Universe. My natural reaction to this is to notice how I'm failing to do so and to beat myself up about it. Which is of course no way to heal.

Then, at Samhain, I re-discovered a gentler way.

As part of my evening practice, I draw a tarot card as an answer to a question. My question that Samhain evening was: "How do the ancestors support my essential nature?" The card that answered was Six of Cups (Margarete Petersen Tarot). As I entered the energy of the card I hear this message: "The ancestors support you with wave upon wave of love and comfort. Be ready to receive it."

This was an eye opener in two different ways.

First, it altered my perspective on my ancestors. For some reason, I had got stuck on the difficult stories of hardship and suffering that have come down to me. For a large part, my ancestors represent a stubborn struggle for survival. But this tarot card spoke of another aspect that I have neglected. There are also stories that speak of a fierce and beautiful parental love. Obviously, with perhaps a few notable exceptions, these people loved their children and grandchildren dearly, as all parents do. And this love flows down to me, through generations, wave upon wave.

Second, it changed how I face life. When I open myself to these waves of love, and let myself receive them, it is so much easier to stay awake and aware. It helps me to slow down and savour the moments of connection. It helps me to welcome life rather than resist it. The love of my ancestors brings me to a place of peace.

I have written before how I am a person who needs to be loved. That was an important insight, but, beyond my own limited capacity, I hadn't yet found the source where that love comes from. Now I have discovered an infinite resource, going back to the first fathers and mothers of my bloodline. I can feel their love and acceptance. And I am grateful.